To exculpate my venial sin, and ease the mortification I feel (perhaps it is more accurate to call it the occasional twinge of guilt), I dare to project that I'm not the only person in the Friendster community that exhibits this contemptuous behaviour. Friendster's original purpose was to extend, retain and regain one's social circle, but I guess human nature being what it is, has corrupted that purpose. After all, it is just one short step in searching out past acquaintances to analysing the possible subtleties in the profile of that person who made your school life miserable.

You can then indulge in small-minded pettiness if said nemesis/bully/bitch is now currently miserable. Or in some cases, are seriously deluded enough to be write glowing, pretentious, descriptions pellucid enough in embellishment for your entertainment purposes. The wiser people are those who put enough in their profile to facilitate genuine attempts to contact them. In contrast, the silly ones with extremely lengthy descriptions allows the nosy reader, with too much time on their hands and a nasty bent of mind, to analyse and disparage any perceived flaws.

Readers like me.

I have the sudden urge to tilt my head back and let out one of those slimy, cackling, laughs that Batman villains in the classic 60s TV series had. Maybe I should just stick to a quiet dignified smirk.

Bad karma. Bad karma.

The truth is: I'm bored. And lazy. And suffering from ennui. That, by the way, is a beautiful word encapsulating my exact state of being right now. I'm just disinterested in everything. Well, everything except wallowing in ungracious thoughts and spiteful rivalry.

***

I must admit that when I started on this entry I wasn't about to expose my small-minded spitefulness to the world. After all, spite seems to be all I really possess right now. (Other than ennui.) And spite is poisonous. It ineluctably spreads throughout the soul without losing its potency. But the words seem to spill out and I don't really have the heart to harness them. Especially when I just managed to discipline myself to write.

I digress.

What I started out intially with, was an entry about the girlfriend of the Beau's brother. Following the Frienster links from one sibling to the other, I discovered just how pretty she is. She glows in her photos. And although I detect a little bit of photoshop artifice (the nimbus around her entire body gives it away), there is no denying the actual prettiness she possesses. (I wouldn't call her beautiful but the difference between beauty and prettiness is another entry on its own.) Her boyfriend, in the words of one obviously smitten testimonial writer, "one lucky, lucky guy."

Sigh. I feel inadequate. I wonder if the Beau finds himself lucky, or cursed. Compared to her, with my glasses and tired face and capricious moods, I feel like a sour prune. Hang on, this personal metaphor sounds familiar. I know I wrote it originally in an earlier entry on Chirpy.

I guess I am doomed to repeat my old insecurities. Superficial and unimportant, the Beau calls these distractions. But for someone whose one crowning achievement when she was seventeen laid in her looks (and not terribly outstanding features too), losing that innocent attractiveness that only the young possess, is a very hard blow indeed.

I am really superficial. Maybe it is merely a reaction to being propelled to grow up, simply because I have finished my lack-lustre education. Face the world. Look upon society's visage and chart your course through its troubled wrinkles.

I need to look into this entire situation more closely. Maybe I will find the answers soon. I hope to. I hate this endless bickering among my selves.

***

It is raining now. A nice change from the oppressive heat we had been experiencing over Christmas. I just can't seem to stop typing. I will stop now.